


Angel of Redemption

by deliciously_devient



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Creature Fic, M/M, angel au, destined mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was born an Angel of the Lord; he was unaware of the fact until he met one of the Fallen. Tony Stark had begun to forget he had once seen the face of God; Steve Rogers made him remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how long this will be or how frequently I will update, but it will be...in depth. It's something I want to chase after.

They say the Earth herself cries when an angel falls.

What they don’t know is that when twenty of them fall at the same time, the Earth screams.

I was one month old when my father, my angel father, got me and all his family cast out of Heaven for making some implication or another. Michael didn’t take too kindly to it, and just scooped up the entire clan and told us to go chill with Lucifer.

Except Lucifer didn’t want us either. He said, and this my father always repeated with clarity “I don’t need any more damn demons. I have trouble keeping the ones I have in line anyway.”

So that landed us on Earth, and I was raised as a human. With my wings clipped and without the Dark Cleansing that would give me demon powers, I was as close to mortal as anyone born an angel could get. I got hurt, I loved, I sinned, and eventually, especially after my parents died, I stopped believing I was an angel. Despite the scars on my shoulder blades, there was no proof.

And then I met him.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew why my father had spent so much time looking for him. Steve Rogers was an Angel of Redemption. Born on Earth and cleansed of spirit and soul, Angels of Redemption could absolve any sin, cure any ill, and when they died their human death, they would find a place in Heaven among Micheal and Gabriel, and the Almighty himself.

I hated him.

I hated him because he had the chance, the glory, and selfless spirit of a man who was assured his spot in the after life. I hated him because he was everything I could never be. I hated him because he would have wings, and I was forever damned.

It was his words that drove me to drag the nuke through the wormhole. I wanted to be a martyr then. I had hoped that I could save lives when I did it; I had hoped that maybe I had earned a place in purgatory at least. I fully expected to die when that happened.

It wasn’t the Hulk’s roar that had roused me from my half-death, though everyone thought it was. It was Steve, and though no one, not even he, saw it, his wings flared out and touched me, bringing me back to the world.

It was then that I fell in love with him.

I was sickened with myself when I realized it, spent days in my lab after, trying to work out the feeling, doing my damnedest to love Pepper and make her happy…but she noticed. She noticed and she smiled and she told me she would always be my friend, but she wasn’t the one I was meant for.

It was six months before we were called back again, the Avengers. I’d given them each their own floor when I had rebuilt the Tower. Steve’s was at the bottom, farthest away from mine, but it didn’t stop us from coming in contact. I still spat venom and harsh jokes at him, attempting to drive him away, but there was no heat behind my insults…

And he knew. 

X0x0x0x0X

I didn’t understand why Tony Stark hated me so much. 

I knew he was flashy, knew he liked to be in charge, knew he didn’t take authority well. But he treated Director Fury with respect, and took his orders, even if he was lippy about it. He never glared at Fury the way he glared at me, never got in Fury’s face, never bit or scratched or threatened bodily harm to him.

I didn’t know what made him hate me.

I found out, a few months after the Chitauri invasion, that Howard -Howard, who had been my first friend besides Bucky, Howard who had smiled at me even when I was a shrimp of a man, Howard who had spent the better part of his life searching for me- hadn’t been the greatest father to him. I thought that, maybe, I shouldn’t take everything Tony said and did to me so personally then. I only reminded him of his late father, and I understood his anger towards me.

That didn’t make it hurt less, though.

It was almost a year after Loki and the first revealing of the Avengers that I was sick of it. We had just finished destroying some kind of robot army -it had Doctor Doom written all over it, literally- and he made some flippant comment to me about how I was always ordering everyone to the debriefing after a battle. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back; there were not words for how done I was with his attitude.

I didn’t let it show right away; despite what everyone else thought of me, I was a sneaky bastard when I wanted to be. I waited until after the debrief, waited until we had had our ritual after-battle schwarma, waited until everyone but Tony and I were asleep, and I snuck into his lab, determined to have it out with him. 

He was bent over some gizmo or another as I crept up behind him, the lab dark. His shirt was missing, and he seemed to be using the light from his arc reactor to work on whatever it was he was tinkering with. I was a foot behind him, arms crossed over my chest, and I glared at his back.

“Why do you hate me?” I demanded, my voice coming out harsher than I had intended. Tony jumped, dropping whatever he was fiddling with, and turned to look at me, his brown eyes wild and panicked for a few moments before he scowled at me.

“Jesus Rogers, give a man a little warning!” he exclaimed. “Have you been taking sneak lessons from Clint or something?”

“Answer the question,” I said, and it was a snarl. All my anger from earlier today was coming back, and it was flooding me with an intensity I had never felt before. I crowded him against bench he’d been working on and his eyes went wide, and he put a hand on my chest, pushing against me.

“Back up a bit, Rogers,” he said, and I could tell he had meant it to be a mimic of my snarl, for the words to bite, but he was breathless, and this close, even in the dark, I could see his pupils dilate.

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” I murmured, and I saw his face flush under his beard, his eyes widen with panic as he realized he’d been found out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I murmured, but didn’t allow him to answer. He had been cutting away at me from the moment we met, the moment I realized he was the one. The only one for me.

My lips covered his, and my eyes closed, focusing only on the sensation of his lips beneath mine. It was everything I thought it might be; he was heated, and warm and inviting. He gave a little sigh as he relaxed against me, his mouth opening at the prompting of my tongue, and he tasted like coffee and scotch and it was the best taste I had ever had the pleasure of savoring. He made a soft little whimpering noise that I drank in, answering with a moan of my own. It was perfect, it was everything I had imagined it would be, and it erased the memory of everyone else I had ever kissed. I drew back, a soft smile on my face, confident that this would mean change. This would mean something different for me, for us...

Tony's eyes were wide and panicked when he punched me in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the terribly long wait, lovies.

The pain in my jaw was shocking, to say the least, but it was nothing I hadn't felt before. Tony could pack a punch, but I wasn't a limp noodle. I had taken a lot worse. No, what was more shocking than the punch to the face was my reactioin to it.

"What the fuck, Stark?" I snarled, and I could feel it, building, a dark, foreboding rage I had never really felt before. I grabbed his shoulders, shoving him against the bench he was standing in front of, using my superior weight to pin him, my face inches from his, but none of the soft passion of before was present. I was angry; I was furious, and more than that, I was hurt. His rejection, especially when he so obviously wanted me too, hurt more than I could say. More than I wanted to admit.

He looked up at me, something vulnerable in his chocolate brown eyes there for a moment, then gone, replaced by a hard determination I had seen before on occasion; it never boded well for the person on the other end of it.

"Take a god damn hint, Rogers," he said quietly, and somehow the words were more intense than if they had been shouted. "I don't want you. Sure, you're hot, but I don't want to fucking settle down. That's not who I am. Playboy, remember? We would never work, and I would really like it if you got your fucking hands off me."

I realized, then, exactly how hard I had been squeezing the shoulders in my grip, and I released Tony as if he had burned me. In a way, he had. I felt the sharp sting of rejection, the realization that the one person who had any connection with my past wanted nothing to do to me, and it was tearing me up. It had been tearing me up since I had woken up, and now I was certain it would rip me to shreds.

I saw, for a moment, a fierce longing in Tony's eyes before he hid it, and I narrowed my own eyes, glaring at him. "I don't buy that," I said lowly. He had kissed me with as much passion as I had kissed him. He didn't want me to get close, I was sure of it, but I didn't know why.

"Well, it's the truth," he snarled, and I smirked as I heard the lie in his voice. 

"We'll see," I said and turned to leave, but paused, looking back over my shoulder at him. "Tony," I murmured, catching the slight widening of his eyes as I spoke his given name, and smirking as I left the lab. 

The game was on, and I would be damned before I let myself lose.


End file.
